


Vanity - Oneshot

by funintended



Category: Mindless Self Indulgence (Band)
Genre: Autophilia, Kind of all over the place, Masturbation, Other, mirror, sorry lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funintended/pseuds/funintended
Summary: uhhh i wrote this in november last year (but edited it rn) im so sorry my band forced me to post this DSHJGFHSG
Relationships: Jimmy Urine/Himself
Kudos: 14





	Vanity - Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> god i swear i dont find jimmy hot but i did in november leave me alone Please

Jimmy had somewhat noticed how in vain he is. His bandmates even name him autophilic behind his back. Whenever he crosses paths with a mirror, he couldn't help but to admire himself. To the point where his eyes were blown just looking at himself. It was strange. Often times, it was difficult to look away. He just thought he was deathly handsome, of course.

* * *

Jimmy was readying himself for a show in the dressing room, [barely] clothing himself for the lucky crowd. Boxers, fishnet shirt, a suit top and his Christian cross tie. He looked in the mirror and... _wow_. He'd be damned if he didn't admit he looked hot.

The more he looked at himself, the more he was attracted. Before he realized it, he was bent over the counter, hand resting his head, just eyeing himself. He grinned, eyes grazing his body.

He finally got a grip and stood up straight. It also appears that his dick did too. What the fuck was he thinking?

No; he couldn't just go out and preform with a fucking hard-on. He could either jerk off—hopefully—quick, or down 2 or 3 water bottles and piss out his boner. Cold showers were not an option, as they had none where the band was right now. He suddenly regrets wearing boxers, because he needs to get past Steve, Kitty and Lindsey without them noticing his obvious erection.

He was getting paranoid about his bandmates watching him, now. As in, watching him gaze straight at his bent over body, and getting hard. What the fuck? This is so obscure to him. This has never happened to him while looking at himself.

Jimmy sat down in one of those metal folding chairs, crossing his legs like women typically do. He folded his hands in his lap. He was directly across to the mirror, still. He tried to avert his eyes from looking there, but he couldn't help himself. His gaze never failed to fall back at that fucking mirror.

If he did either one of his options, he would have hardly any time on his hands to do his liberty spikes. He thought about the possible outcomes, subconsciously looking at himself, again. Worst case scenario, if he didn't piss on time, he would have to piss during the show; and that was very likely. His best bet was to jerk off. _Shit_.

Miraculously, through all of this thinking, he still held his erection. Maybe all of this nervousness gives a thrill. He moved his legs farther apart, rested his elbows on his knees and hunched over. He hid his face in his hands. Jimmy sharply breathed in, then let out a slow exhale. Shame rose up in his body, but he _had_ to do this.

He braced himself to bolt straight to the bathroom. He stood up again, spun around and ran. Obviously, he avoided the chair he was previously in. He flew the bathroom door open and shoved himself in, slamming the door behind him.

He overheard Lindsey say "What's his problem?" with a chuckle right after. Jimmy doesn't think she saw, or anyone else did. When he came to his senses and took in his surroundings, his eyes met his own.

 _Fuckin' mirror_ , he thought. He let out a reluctant breath, as his eyes dropped to his body. He let out a led-on "Shit..." as he started stepping—slowly—towards the sink counter. Close enough to hide his legs, but far enough to see his crotch.

In here, he had no shame. It was private, after all. He found his right hand move down towards his clothed, desperate cock. He palmed himself through his boxers, breathing slightly heavier than he was before.

He decided that he shouldn't let his eyes leave the mirror. Even to look at his real self. Only his reflection.

Jimmy realized he should do this fast, as he has a show soon. He swiftly removed his boxers to keep this act quick.

Jimmy started stroking himself, wanting to close his eyes and let it happen. But he couldn't. he had to keep looking at his fucking reflection. No matter what. He propped his knee up on the sink counter, just to give a better angle to look at himself, and also to not look awkward. He also put his left hand on the counter, making him bend over slightly closer to it.

He let out a slow, desperate groan as he started stroking faster. He stared into his own eyes feeling himself grow closer to his climax. All that was running through his mind was _Fuck, why am I doing this, it feels so good. I can't stop now. My reflection..._

He absolutely loved how he looked right now. His desperate face, his slim body, the way his arm is flexing... God. It was too much. Too fucking much.

He let out short, quiet, in-rhythm moans. Jimmy was really fucking close. He shot his left hand down to the front of his dick, never looking away from the mirror; but losing a bit of his balance for a second. As he finished in his hand, he let a quick "Fuck," escape his lips. He finally broke eye contact from his reflection as he was riding out of his orgasm.

He kind of wanted to shake his hand in the sink and flick his cum everywhere—weird, he's aware—but this isn't his own bathroom, so he's definitely not going to do something like that. He grabbed some toilet paper from the roll and wiped it off. He then threw the soiled toilet paper into the toilet and flushed it.

He washed his hands and put his boxers on. He decided that his excuse for having been in this room for so long, would be him hair spraying his head into a strange, disgusting-looking mess, and then saying his hair wouldn't be very cooperative.

Jimmy picked up the hair spray on the counter and went at it. He stuck his hair up in awkward positions, sprayed, and called it a day.

He could still hear everyone discussing whatever outside of the bathroom, he felt embarrassed to leave the bathroom just after he'd came. He had to, though.

He hesitantly left the bathroom with a big fake smile on his face, and everyone staring at him.

"What?" he asked, fake-oblivious.

"Dude. Why were you in there for so long? What the fuck were you doing?" Kitty answered, looking kind of pissed.

Jimmy nearly choked. "Hair wouldn't cooperate. Took forever to do this shit," he said, hoping they would buy his excuse.

They all looked at him with suspicion, but decided to drop it. There's no use in trying to pry something out of him when they're on a time crunch.


End file.
